


Dual use

by Taromei



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimilix NSFW Bingo (Fire Emblem), Edging, Free Space!, M/M, Sex comedy (cringe), Soemthing Sexy With Swords (daggers), Tears, heat - Freeform, it's weapon fucking, sorry - Freeform, the free space is nipples
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26081614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taromei/pseuds/Taromei
Summary: Since they've been together as long as they have, and at the suggestion of a dearly depraved friend, Dimitri suggests it might be a fun idea for Felix and himself to 'try' and 'spice things up' in the 'bedroom'.How does one do that. Swords? Is it swords?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 8
Kudos: 93
Collections: Dimilix NSFW Bingo





	Dual use

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting. It's really not very good. Um. Bingo?
> 
> (Please heed the tags. I'm bright red.)

Things Felix has learned, over a long career as Dimitri’s right hand and better half: any sentence Dimitri begins with a sheepish “Felix…” is bad news. Other things Felix has learned: Dimitri has a wide array of foolish expressions, and the one he wears now is the worst of them all.

“Out with it,” he says.

Sure enough, Dimitri clears his throat and says, “I have been thinking.”

“May the Goddess save me, then.”

Puppy eyes to this, of course. Felix scoots closer in Dimitri’s ridiculously large bed and tucks his head into the crook of Dimitri’s arm. “Go on.”

Dimitri nuzzles into Felix’s head with his cheek. “Have you ever wanted to try something… different?”

“Different,” Felix deadpans.

“New?” Dimitri tries.

“New.”

“More exciting,” Dimitri amends. Shrinks further when he adds, “In bed, I mean.”

Felix draws away. “You’ve been talking to Sylvain.”

“Perhaps,” Dimitri says, guiltily. He runs a warm hand over Felix’s bare chest, gently pulling up the covers, although Felix is not remotely cold. Dimitri is a fireplace in and of himself and Felix hasn’t been cold since they started to share a bed. It’s fitting, Felix often muses, overheating tremendously in a snoring Dimitri’s iron grip: if Faerghus is doomed to freeze over season by season then it only makes sense their King is its heart and hearth, glowing warm and thawing the city with each passing day. The next, considerably less sentimental thought, is usually that he would defect to the Empire for a single breath at night that didn’t stink of Dimitri’s muggy armpits.

(Although these days even Dimitri’s muggy armpits are endearing. Felix is, perhaps, a fool in love.)

“Are you opposed,” Dimitri murmurs into Felix’s hair. “You know I would not suggest anything you were not amenable to, my love. I am perfectly content with our lovemaking.”

“I’d be amenable if I could gag you in bed so you can’t say ‘lovemaking’ anymore,” Felix mutters. He nuzzles into Dimitri’s chest, then bites, just because he can. Dimitri rumbles faintly with laughter. “Whatever you want. I trust you.”

“I, well—ah, I don’t mean to proposition you so suddenly,” Dimitri says awkwardly. “I do not want you to think I have simply been—well, fantasising about untoward things, and I would hardly wish to approach you with a, well. That is. It would be inappropriate to present you with a—a completely thought out—battle tactic, as it were, and I—”

“For the Goddess’ sake, boar,” Felix groans, and climbs on him to silence him in the most effective way he knows. Dimitri’s huge arms wrap instinctively around his waist, running his hands up Felix’s back and pressing him close to his chest. Felix pulls back minutely, rests his forehead on Dimitri’s, and mumbles, “I mean it. Tell me what you want to try. You know I’ll cut you down if I hate it.”

Dimitri strains to kiss him again, laughing into his mouth. “I do. Thank you, Felix.” He pulls away just enough to brush Felix’s hair tenderly back behind his ear and gaze too lovingly into his eyes. Felix reaches up to touch Dimitri’s scarred eye and feel the raised tissue where the wound healed, mottled and painful. Dimitri laughs into his skin when he leans down to brush his lips against it.

“So?” Felix murmurs against his eye. “What do you want?”

Dimitri clears his throat. His face is wry when Felix looks at him again. “Do you remember,” he says, “last month, when those visiting dignitaries gifted you those beautiful twin daggers?”

“Oh, no,” says Felix.

* * *

He’s done a lot of weird shit for Dimitri, but this genuinely has to take the fucking cake. He opens his mouth to complain again, but Dimitri, already having headed him off several times, gently reminds him, “It’s not like you  _ use _ daggers.”

“I would have used them more if I’d known this was what you would do with them,” Felix mutters. He wriggles, oddly self-conscious for how many times he’s already lain splayed and naked on Dimitri’s bed. It’s  _ weirder _ now, though, knowing what’s to come.

Dimitri pauses. “If you have a genuine objection—” he begins guiltily, but Felix just snarls at him, so he shakes his head and chuckles. “My dear Felix. You are so contrary sometimes.”

“You’re so strange,” Felix mumbles, reaching for Dimitri, who crawls obligingly to the bed with the daggers in hand.

“I thought you might enjoy this,” Dimitri says. “You have such a proclivity for blades.”

“That doesn’t mean I want one up my—”

“Have you already prepared yourself?” Dimitri interrupts diplomatically, and Felix snaps his mouth shut with a pout and nods. “I should have liked to see it, but unfortunately I could not escape that meeting. I thought of nothing but you the whole time.”

“And I’m sure the court will be glad of that,” Felix says, mutinous. He scrambles into Dimitri’s lap, feeling significantly less idiotic when he’s wrapped up in Dimitri’s arms, even if he’s still entirely nude and Dimitri mostly clothed. He kisses up Dimitri’s throat. “You’d better never doubt my commitment to you after this. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.”

“I’d never doubt you,” Dimitri murmurs, turning his head to kiss the side of Felix’s face. “Now, are you sure—?”

“Yes,” Felix growls, flopping back onto the mattress so that his legs are still wrapped around Dimitri’s waist. “Go ahead.”

“Not quite yet,” Dimitri says with a grin too mischievous to belong on his kind face. He slips off the bed a moment, ignoring Felix’s petulant grunt, and fetches a small collection of candles, which he lights carefully one by one.

Felix cranes his neck to watch. “Is that mood lighting, boar? Mood lighting for shoving a knife up my ass?”

Dimitri winces. “Must you be so crass?”

“Oh, sorry,” Felix snipes. “I’ll find a more delicate way to say you’re shoving a knife up my ass.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri says, curling his lip at him. “And no, although I do like the atmosphere—don’t you? It’s a little more romantic than firelight.”

“Romantic,” Felix mutters. “Romantic ass knife.”

Dimitri makes another face at him. “Don’t pretend you aren’t as excited about this as I am,” he says, faintly reprimanding. “You can snap all you like, Felix, but you forget that I know you quite as well as you know me.” To Felix’s horror, he actually reaches out to flick at his erection, watching it bob ludicrously on contact. Felix covers his face, mortified, but Dimitri just laughs and Felix feels the bed dip as Dimitri returns to his side. “I thought I’d warm the hilt for you a little,” he says, more gently. “So it is not so cold.”

Of course he did. The considerate fool. “I really don’t know what’s worse,” Felix gripes, “that you wanted to shove a knife up my ass, or that you’ve put it to such careful thought.”

Dimitri smirks and pushes Felix’s leg up by the crook of his knee. Felix inhales sharply and closes his eyes, never used to feeling this exposed all at once no matter how many times they did this. “I would never do anything by halves when it comes to you, Felix,” Dimitri assures him, and Felix feels the soft press of Dimitri’s finger against him. “Alright?”

“I told you I already did this,” Felix grits out.

“I know.” The press grows more insistent. Dimly, out the corner of his half-open eye, Felix sees Dimitri gently turning the hilt of one of the beautiful ceremonial daggers over a small candle. “Indulge me.”

Felix hisses as Dimitri’s finger slips inside. The callouses from training, so much more pronounced on Dimitri’s thick fingers than on Felix’s own slender ones, make him squeeze his eyes shut again. A second joins it fairly quickly, Dimitri making some absurd cooing sounds above him that make him flap an arm out to scratch his arm like a cat. Laughter, then emptiness—Felix cracks his eyes open again in time to see Dimitri leaning over him, pressing his thighs back against his chest with a gentle hand. Felix goes easily, eyeing the dagger.

“Are you ready?” Dimitri asks, and Felix nods tersely. He closes his eyes once more when he feels the hilt against him. Dimitri lifts his hand and kisses his knuckles softly. Then the dagger pushes in.

Felix gasps and his eyes fly open. The sensation is ridged and strange, the pommel stretching him in a way he’s not quite used to, and the intricate carvings on the hilt make him squirm. “Goddess—”

“Alright?” Dimitri asks him softly. His knuckles come up to brush Felix’s face. “Felix?”

“Good,” Felix gasps out. “Weird. Good.”

“Weird?”

“ _ It’s a dagger _ ,” Felix hisses. “It’s a  _ dagger _ and you’re using it as a  _ dildo _ — _ ah _ —”

Dimitri chuckles. Draws the dagger out before pushing it gently in again, pulling a raw sound from Felix’s throat. “Would you like me to stop?”

Felix’s fingers form a vice grip around Dimitri’s wrist at once. “ _ Do that—and I stab you with it still in me _ .”

“I’d be curious to see you try that,” Dimitri says, amused.

The dagger’s hilt isn’t particularly long or thick, but its strange shape and texture are enough to have Felix writhing in the sheets, clenching down on it. “Boar,” he breathes. “Faster.”

“Faster?”

“ _ Faster _ .” Felix tries to move Dimitri’s arm for him, but it’s like trying to pose a statue. “ _ Harder _ .”

Dimitri obliges and Felix cries out. His free hand goes to touch himself at once, frantic, and he moans out when he feels Dimitri’s hand on his chest. “Dimitri.  _ Dimitri _ .”

“Shh,” Dimitri says. Felix’s eyes roll back when Dimitri’s fingers go to his nipples, his hips riding back on the dildo—dagger—dildagger?—quite of their own accord. “Sensitive here as always, love.”

“Uunghh,” Felix says, coherently. He’s vaguely aware that he’s panting, his heart pounding, and his hand speeds up—“Close—” he chokes out—his hips buck up and he crests—

Dimitri’s hand leaves his chest and takes hold of his arm, gently but firmly stopping him from touching himself any further. Felix’s head pops up at once, staring at Dimitri, utterly betrayed. Slowly, the high fades.

“Not yet,” Dimitri says in a voice so low it’s almost a croon.

“Excuse me,” Felix demands.

“Not yet,” Dimitri repeats. “And don’t touch yourself anymore, love.”

“What,” Felix says, still panting a little. “ _ What _ .”

Dimitri leans closer to him. “Let me,” he says, quiet. “Let me take control of your pleasure, love. Do you trust me?”

Well, that’s just not fair. Felix scowls at him, but Dimitri can already tell his answer from the look on his face. “Yes,” he murmurs anyway, and lets Dimitri beam down at him.

A hand closes around him and Felix lets his eyes drift shut as the dagger begins to move once more. Dimitri alternates between touching his chest and touching his cock; Felix loses track of time, knowing only that his breathing is heavy and ragged by the time Dimitri has finished bringing him to the brink a second, a third, a fourth time and letting it ebb away at each near finish. Hot tears go from prickling at the corners of Felix’s eyes to spilling over at a blink, running down his temples, soaking through the down pillows at his head. His throat is raw from pleading, from dragging Dimitri’s name out from his ruined vocal cords. And Dimitri is just as tender through it all, brushing tears away from Felix’s face and pressing kisses to his heaving chest with the same easy reverence, heedless of Felix’s increasing ruin.

“It’s a good thing the blade is sheathed,” Dimitri muses. “It would be so easy to press its edge to your skin… but I would never risk that with it in such a position.” Felix’s breath hitches. There’s a funny note to Dimitri’s voice that puts Felix on edge at once. And it also makes his cock twitch, but that’s neither here nor there.

“What are you plotting?” he asks, tense.

“Relax, love,” Dimitri murmurs, drawing the hilt out again. When he pushes it back inside, he leaves it there. “I’m only saying… it’s a good thing we have two daggers, that’s all.”

It takes a moment for the words to click in Felix’s drunk brain. Then his head snaps up again. “ _ What? _ ”

“If it agrees with you,” Dimitri says slowly. He’s moving toward the edge of the bed, reaching for the second dagger, unsheathing it. Leaving the first firmly buried inside Felix, unmoving, so that he can only clench helplessly down on it. “And I think it will. Tell me, Felix,” and he’s warming the blade over the flickering candles, turning it over and over so it’s heated evenly. His voice is rough again when he speaks, a familiar vestige of the beast echoing behind each word. “What would you do if I pressed this to your throat?”

Felix can’t help it; he swallows, and then again. “Boar…”

“Your ribs?” Dimitri asks, suddenly quietly menacing. “I could rest the point at your heart. Run it over your skin…”

Felix moans. The dagger in him—oh, this is fucking stupid—it  _ twitches _ , nudges a little dent in the sheets with the end of its sheath, because he can’t keep from clenching down on it.

Dimitri smiles and sits back by him once more. “Would you like that, Felix?” he asks, softly.

It takes Felix a moment to find words. A moment, caught up entirely in the feel of it all, eyes swimming with sensation and emotion. “Yes,” he manages at last. “ _ Yes. Please. _ ”

The blade is at his skin at once. It’s  _ hot _ ; not burning, but enough to make him hiss. Dimitri runs the flat of it down the inside of his thigh, leaving a trail of heat that sends shivers through his body. To his abdomen, the edge of the blade finally slipping a gentle line up his side, not breaking skin, just drawing a line over the edges of his muscles that makes him hold his breath. Tracing over his ribs, under them, and then as promised the point of the dagger digs just into the underside of his ribcage—just so if Dimitri were to thrust it up, it would pierce his heart. Dimitri doesn’t draw blood, just presses a little, so he can feel his skin dent.

Felix is so hard it hurts. It  _ hurts _ . He’s not sure he would bleed at all if Dimitri stabbed him now. All his blood is distinctly elsewhere. 

“Enough?” Dimitri asks.

“More,” Felix rasps out. “Please.”

Dimitri smiles like he expected this, and shifts to heat the blade once more. It was cooling on Felix’s skin, a contrast to Dimitri’s hand, radiating warmth from its comforting hold on his thigh. Then the blade is back, this time tracing a featherlight path up his cock with the newly burning flat of it, and it takes everything he has not to jerk up at the touch. Instead he goes perfectly still, his eyes fixed unfailingly on Dimitri, who gazes right back at him.

“Beautiful,” Dimitri murmurs. Felix manages not to look away, instead reaching for Dimitri’s free hand and holding it tight.

“Here,” Felix whispers. He raises his other hand, trembling, to touch his throat.

Dimitri’s face barely betrays anything, but Felix doesn’t miss the flash of concern. Dimitri’s words are for show, for play, but he would cut off his sword arm before he ever hurt Felix. Felix doesn’t break his gaze, trying to convey that he’s serious. That he trusts him.

Slowly, Dimitri draws the blade up Felix’s chest to rest against his throat.

Felix closes his eyes. The heat of the metal bleeds into his skin.

“You can move,” he says.

“Felix—”

“Move,” Felix says again. “I trust you.”

He can hear Dimitri swallow, at that. Then there’s a hand gently manipulating the hilt inside him again. Not thrusting, anymore—he should have known Dimitri was too careful to try something like that—just a slow, steady grind that promises to drive Felix mad. The blade of the second dagger stays perfectly still at Felix’s throat. Felix shifts, careful not to move his neck too much, but unable to stop his hips from grinding down. Down. The pommel is pressing repeatedly into his sweet spot, over, and over, and over again. He thinks—he’s never, before, but with the pressure of it, and the feel of the blade at his throat—Dimitri’s warm, steady presence keeping him here—

Dimitri presses the dagger harder into his throat, ever so minutely—

Felix comes, untouched, with a gasp that has Dimitri removing the blade at once. He cries out for Dimitri and hears the dagger clatter to the floor—a moment later that familiar warm hand at his face, stroking his chest, touching his cock—the low rumble of Dimitri’s voice, mildly anxious but mostly affectionate, and the whole time the hilt keeps up its steady press, that unrelenting grind. Felix collapses back against the sheets, panting hard.   
Dimitri’s hand hasn’t left him, still running smoothly up and down his bare body. Felix winces as the dagger is slowly drawn out from inside him, tossed carelessly aside, and Dimitri’s lucky he’s too tired to tell him off for his deplorable treatment of such beautiful blades. “Alright?” Dimitri murmurs, gathering Felix up in his arms.

Felix grunts. Dimitri makes a confused sound when Felix slaps him in the leg, flapping his hand around a few times and smacking into his torso—then—“Oh—no, Felix, I already—that is, I’m quite satisfied.”

Felix stills. Then fumbles away from Dimitri’s grasp to stare. Sure enough, there’s a dampness leaking through Dimitri’s trousers. Dimitri laughs, sounding only a little exerted, when Felix whips his head back up to glare disbelieving at him. “You never believe what you do to me, love,” he says.

“That is  _ so _ embarrassing,” Felix grumbles. “I didn’t even touch you.”

“I didn’t need to touch you either,” Dimitri points out, teasing, so Felix buries his face in Dimitri’s chest to end the exchange. “Are you alright?”

“Great,” Felix says, muffled.

“Will you allow me to clean you up?”

“Shut,” Felix grits out. “Up.” Wraps his arms tight around Dimitri’s neck and drags him down until he overbalances, landing back in the sheets. “Just.”

Dimitri’s whole body vibrates when he laughs like this, warm and comforting against Felix like a big cat’s purr. He wraps his arms back around Felix’s torso. “If you wanted me to hold you,” he says softly. “You need only ask.”

“Stupid boar,” Felix mumbles. He runs his hands through Dimitri’s hair. “I never need to ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I have a Twitter now? https://twitter.com/TAR0MEI


End file.
